


Inspiration

by theoddling



Category: Misfits (TV 2009)
Genre: Alcohol, F/M, References to Animal Abuse, criminal activity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:02:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27595873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theoddling/pseuds/theoddling
Summary: A night of boredom leads to the reader discovering one of Nathan's secret talents.
Relationships: Nathan/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	Inspiration

“Hey,” Nathan said, waving his hand in front of your face, making you jump. “Earth to Y/N!”

“Sorry, what?” you said, slightly embarrassed that you had been zoning out.

“Am I borin’ ye?” he asked, pretending to pout. 

“No of course not,” you were quick to assure him, before pausing a moment. “Well…”

He gasped.

“No! You’re not boring me. It’s just…we are just sitting around drinking stolen, bad, vodka,” you took a swig of the bottle in question and grimaced at its rubbing alcohol aftertaste.

“We could do somethin’ else,” he said, smirking and waggling his eyebrows before plucking the vodka out of your hands and chugging some. 

You laughed and rolled your eyes, leaning over to punch him lightly in the shoulder.

“I was thinking more like...how do you feel about petty crime and vandalism?”

He gave you a curious look. “I’d say I’m a fan.”

“Good,” you said, taking out your phone to send a quick text to your friend to see if they could drop you some supplies. “Because I noticed a lovely barren expanse of walls on my walk over here that are just begging to be graffitied.”

“I’ve never done it,” he said with a shrug, “but I’m game.”

~

“Well,” you said, digging through the shopping bag you had found in the open boot of an abandoned car, right where you were expecting it, “El really came through with the supplies and the world is our canvas.”

You threw your hands in a broad gesture, before planting your fist on your hip. “And by that, I mean these two walls are our canvas.”

Nathan laughed, shaking his head wryly at you. “Lovely. So, what d’ we do?”

“Oh.” Your face fell slightly. You didn’t really know how to explain it to him. You had been painting street art for so long that it just came naturally to you. “Um...I guess you just, pick a can of paint and go for it. Paint whatever you’re feeling or thinking about. Or just your initials or something in a cool way. Whatever you want.”

“Hmm. Maybe I should watch ya for a bit, get some inspiration,” he drawled, giving you a cocky half-smile.

“I...uh...sure, if you want.” You shifted awkwardly, trying to ignore his gaze that felt like it was burning into the back of your neck as you riffled through the options to find the color you wanted. Stepping back, you looked critically at the wall, calculating it’s dimensions and what to start with. Satisfied that you had everything mapped out in your head, you set to work on the outline.

Nathan watched you work, your whole body moving fluidly in a way that sent his thoughts racing (not there was much you could do that didn’t), your brow knitted in fierce concentration. Once you had a vague outline of whatever you were designing, which he couldn’t even begin to guess, you shifted your focus to each individual section and detail. Occasionally, you would take a step back to see how the whole thing was coming together, tilting your head one way or the other, tongue poking out between your teeth slightly. He had never seen you so free and relaxed.

Suddenly, inspiration struck him and he practically dove into the shopping bag, rooting about for what he’d need. Taking a couple of the cans, he ducked around the corner to get started, a strange creative fire lighting in him. 

“Finally come up with something?” you called softly, teasing. 

“Yeah, yeah I did,” he said, almost absently. “But it’s a surprise, so no peekin’.”

“Ooh, mysterious.”

“Ye gotta promise ye won’t look til I say, Y/N,” he insisted.

“Alright,” you frowned, surprised he was getting so tetchy. “Cross my heart, I won’t peek. I’m pretty busy over here anyway.”

~

About an hour later, you put the final touch on your piece, your artist’s mark at the bottom so that anyone who knew anything would know who painted it. Stepping back, you smiled, wiping the slight sheen of sweat from your brow, formed by your exertion despite the cool night.

“You almost done, Nathan?” you called, surprised that he had been practically silent since he started working. 

“Oh, yeah,” he called back distractedly. “Nearly. But I’ll come over there.”

“Sure,” you answered, puzzled by his odd behavior. 

While you waited, you started gathering up the spray paints, putting any cans that still had paint in them back in the bag and tossing the empties in a nearby bin. 

“Wow,” you heard Nathan say, making you jump as he appeared behind your back. 

He was looking up at your art piece in awe. You had painted one of your signature designs: a laughing skull with flowers spilling from its open mouth. This time, the flowers were marigolds and foxgloves, and you had added a twist in the form of literal emerald eyes. You were quite proud of it, and Nathan seemed impressed. 

“You like it?” you asked sheepishly, the heat of a blush creeping across your face.

“I love it,” he exclaimed, pulling out his phone to snap a grainy picture of it. “Make a cool shirt or somethin’. Or a pirate tattoo. Very punk.”

You rolled your eyes and stuck your tongue out at him. “It’s been an...evolving design since I was like 14. Leave me alone.”

“I’m not messin with ya, Y/N. I really like it.”

“Well, thank you.” You smiled and he grinned back, and for a moment you were lost in that. And then you remembered his very secret work.

“So Hotshot, do I get to see yours now?” you asked.

He jumped, startled and then shrugged, mumbling. “‘F you want ta.”

“Of course I do,” you said, taking a step toward the corner.

“No wait! If it’s a surprise, I should cover your eyes and lead you to it.”

Knowing him, you were suspicious that he had some prank or ulterior motive in mind, but you nodded your ascent. He moved up behind you, pressing his chest against your back and curling his long fingers over your eyes. 

“Can ya see anything?” he asked. 

“Nope. Totally blind.” 

Slowly he walked you across the gravel ground. Once you stopped, he started shifting you around by little steps in one direction or another, as if trying to get you into exactly the right spot. 

“Alright,” he said, a nervous tick to his voice. “Ta-dah!”

He dramatically uncovered your eyes to show what he'd been working on.

“ _Oh,_ ” you breathed, stunned.

Staring back at you from the wall were a pair of eyes caught in mid-wink. Your eyes. Captured in exquisite detail, right down to the scar in your brow, earned as a child trying to stop a group of older boys from dropping a paper sack full of kittens into the drainage ditch during a downpour. 

“ _Nathan._ ” You felt your heart swell at the level of dedication, the obvious emotion he’d put into this, and tried to keep your voice from breaking. 

He scuffed the toe of his dirty sneakers in the gravel, looking down and away sheepishly. 

“I know. It ain't very good and it's jus' yer eyes instead o’ yer whole face but I thought this way you wouldn't get busted. And ye said t' paint what I was thinkin of…”

You turned to face him, reluctantly pulling your eyes away from the work of art before you. Tucking a hand gently under his chin, you drew his gaze back to you.

“It’s beautiful,” you murmured, making sure he could see the sincerity in your expression. 

He blushed, barely noticeable under the dim lights. “Ya think?”

You nodded, snaking your arm around his neck and stepping closer. His hand dropped to your waist as if on instinct.

“And very sweet. Some might say romantic even.”

“Hey, don’t go spreading those lies! I have a reputation to maintain ya know,” he joked, obviously trying to hide his discomfort at your praise.

“Nah, I like keeping that secret all to myself better anyway,” you teased, smirking before stretching up on your toes to press a teasing kiss to his lips. 

He groaned, pulling you closer and kissing you back, tongue trailing over your lip almost immediately. You parted to let him explore your mouth, toying with an errant curl at the nape of his neck. Slowly he guided you backward, only to suddenly jerk you to the side, accidentally biting your lip in the process. 

“Ow,” you whined, pulling back and bringing a finger to your lip to see if you were bleeding. “What was that?”

“Didn’t want to mess up the art,” he explained. “Or my jacket.”

“What do you mean?” you frowned.

He looked at you incredulously. You glanced down, realizing that in your haste to get ready, you had indeed pulled on his signature plaid-lined black garment. 

“Oh,” you said softly before turning your face back up toward his with a smirk and a shrug to rival his most unapologetic expressions. “Oops.”

“Ye’re lucky ye’re so damn cute, or I might be mad at ya,” he teased. 

“I’m sure I can think of some way to make it up to you,” you hummed, raising an eyebrow.

He grinned at you, and you stretched up to kiss him again, but just as your lips met, a strong, chill wind cut whistling through, causing you both to shiver. 

“Maybe we should take this back to my place?” he asked, breath ghosting across your face. 

“I like the sound of that,” you smiled back.

Quickly, slid the bag of remaining paint cans under the nearby dumpster for your friend to pick up later. All traces of your presence in the area (except of course the now much more beautiful wall) removed, you turned back to Nathan, ready to head out. He draped an arm around your shoulders and you happily leaned in to the gesture, tucking yourself against his side. As you walked back toward the community center, your head resting on his shoulder, you thought of something. 

“Nathan,” you asked, slightly hesitant, fearful that he might put up walls against you again. “I thought you said you’d never done this before?”

“I haven’t,” he answered casually.

“Then how were you so good at it? The level of detail and real, genuine artistry…”

He shrugged, taking his arm from around you to fumble in his pockets for a cigarette and a lighter, the latter of which he couldn’t seem to find. You reached into the pocket of your jeans, holding out yours and letting him light the end of the cig with it. The distraction passed, you looked back at him as he looked pointedly away and took a long drag. 

“I dunno. I mean it’s not that different from doodlin’ on paper with a pen or whatever, right?” he said finally with another shrug. 

“That was more than ‘doodling’, Nathan,” you said, plucking the cigarette from his lips and placing it between your own.

He pouted at you as you took a drag and offered it back. His lips brushed against your fingers as he took it back, sending a shiver down your spine. 

“Guess I’m just a man of mystery,” he said vaguely, draping his arm back around your shoulder. 

“I guess so,” you murmured, not voicing how much you look forward to finding them all out.

**Author's Note:**

> I have this head-canon that Nathan is actually a really talented artist, but he assumes it's nothing special so he doesn't bother to tell anyone. Nothing in canon supports that, I just think it's neat.


End file.
